High School Reunion
by vertical-drop
Summary: A series of gatherings between our favorite Wildcats over the years.


_A/N:_ _I don't even know if anyone still reads HSM fanfic, but I seem committed to writing for fandoms I should have outgrown years ago._ _I'm not sure yet how far I wanna go with this, but I wanted to at least get this part out tonight to celebrate the night that, ten years ago to the day, our beloved movie showed for the first time on Disney Channel. I honestly can't believe it's been that long. This movie and these characters were so special to me, and this is my little way of celebrating the impact they had on my life and pop culture._

 **Ten Years**

The East High School gym is an explosion of Wildcat festivity on the night of their ten year reunion. Red and white cloth-covered round tables fill the room, red and white confetti coats the floor, red and white streamers decorate the walls and red and white balloons bob up and down along the ceiling. The gym bleachers have been pushed into the wall to create space for the dance floor, and an unknown local band plays disinterestedly on stage. There is already a long line at the bar set up on the other side of the gym, and Troy's contemplating joining it when Jason returns to their sides with drinks for everyone.

"Thought you could use this." Jason shoves a bottle of beer into Troy's hand. Troy drinks it indulgently as Chad claps him on the shoulder.

"Relax, man," Chad says, trying in his own way to be comforting. "Just try to enjoy yourself."

Troy is not opposed to the concept of enjoying himself in theory, but now that he actually works at East High as a student guidance counselor, the school gym is not exactly where he wants to spend his Saturday evenings. Weekends are his solitary sanctuary from this place, and even though he likes his job during the week, he still cherishes the two days of freedom he gets from these hallowed halls of education.

The highlight of his night is getting to spend it with Chad, Jason and Zeke. Chad, now an assistant coach at the University of Albuquerque two hours away, visits Troy often enough. So often, he has a spare room in Troy's house for whenever he feels like crashing. But Zeke's bakery in Manhattan keeps him away for most of the year, and Jason's sports writing job with ESPN can keep him on the road for months at a time. This is the first time in years all four former members of the Wildcat basketball team have been in the same place at the same time.

Someone coughs pointedly behind Chad and surreptitiously taps his shoulder. The four men turn to find Taylor cutting a neat figure in a muted red dress and sharp red heels standing behind them. Her name tag states she's the president of the Reunion Planning Committee, and therefore responsible for tonight's event. Troy wasn't aware of this fact before now, but, knowing Taylor, it's not a shocking revelation. He hasn't seen her in over two years, but she looks younger somehow, glowing almost. New York seems to be agreeing with her.

"Hi strangers," she says to them all, her lips pulled up into a sly grin.

They all greet her enthusiastically, but Chad is the one who gathers her into a hug that lifts her off her feet. He spins her around until she has to hold onto his shoulders to regain her balance after he sets her down. They kiss each other's cheeks and Taylor holds his head in her hands for a second too long. Finally, Jason clears his throat and the two separate with identical looks of mild embarrassment.

Zeke and Taylor's hug is less theatrical but still friendly, and Jason says to her, "You look good, Taylor."

"I'm trying something new," Taylor says, tucking some of her waist-length braids behind one ear.

"Taylor made senior associate at her fancy law firm this year," Chad says. He wraps an arm around her shoulder proudly. He hasn't stopped beaming since she arrived. Troy makes a note to question him about this later. "She'll probably be the youngest partner there ever."

"So you haven't given up on world domination," Troy asks, only partially kidding.

Taylor tilts up her chin in mock pride. "Not a chance," she tells him.

She takes him in for the first time that night and the methodical way she eyes him up and down makes him feel like a science project. Her eyes soften and he sees in them reassurance, and possibly pity, which he expects he'll see a lot of tonight. She doesn't hug him as she does the others, they haven't kept in touch well enough for that kind of closeness, but she still says, "I'm glad you came, Troy."

He wants to return the sentiment, but the sound of clicking heels on the laminate hardwood floors steals his attention first.

The woman approaching them is a vision of sparkles, sequences and glitter. She's squeezed into a shiny, tight pink dress under a white fur coat and walking in silver high heel shoes that would look ridiculous on anyone else but her. Her now brunette hair sways to the rhythm of her stride. She stops beside Zeke and gives the five of them an appraising glance over.

"Look at this; the gang all back together again. Sort of." When her eyes find Troy's her expression is an uncharacteristically genuine look of astonishment. She must not have expected him to show his face. "Troy Bolton. What a not totally unpleasant surprise."

"Uh, thanks, I think?" Troy says, beginning to feel like he needs a stronger drink. "How've you been, Sharpay?"

Sharpay schools her features into her normal expression of haughty disdain and wrinkles her nose in distaste. "I'd be a lot better if this band wasn't so lame. Whoever was in charge of this reunion should be tried for crimes against music," Sharpay pauses for effect and her eyes grow comically wide as she looks at Taylor. "Oh wait, that was you, wasn't it?"

Taylor gives her a humorless look. "How's the academy, Sharpay. Still struggling?"

"We get by, thanks for your concern. How's the law firm. Still defending criminals?"

"Sure am. Give me a call when you need our help."

Troy looks between the two women worriedly, but despite the hostility of their words there doesn't appear to be actual hostility towards each other. There's almost a teasing quality to their back and forth banter, and the playfully aggravated look Sharpay gives Taylor, a look Taylor returns, seems to support Troy's theory.

"So. What have the infamous Wildcats been up to?" Sharpay asks the rest of them.

The five of them fall into a conversation that feels un-paused rather than new.

It turns out that Chad is the one who stayed in contact with Sharpay and Ryan the longest after graduation. His disdain for the Evans twins was never much of a secret. Though he and Ryan were mostly friendly by the time they graduated, he never showed any sign of warming up to Sharpay. Yet for some reason, when Sharpay and Ryan decided to invest in a private high school for artistically-minded students, Chad was the one they asked to connect U of A's athletic department with the Evan's School of Performing Arts's dance program. He's remained their liaison ever since.

But the rest of his friends seem to have formed similar ties to Sharpay and Ryan over the past year as well. Troy learns that Sharpay was at the grand opening of Zeke's bakery, that Jason did an article on the little league baseball team Ryan sponsors, and that Taylor gave Ryan and Sharpay free legal advice when they started setting up branches for their school. It doesn't have the makings of lifelong friendships, but away from the backdrop of high school cliques and teenage drama, they've all developed an understanding that borders on friendly.

Sharpay holds out her left hand so Taylor can see the large sparkling diamond engagement ring that encircles her ring finger. Taylor tells Sharpay a diamond is missing from the band and Sharpay snaps her hand back to her side with a gasp to check.

"Hey, where's Ryan?" Jason asks. "I wanted to show him the autograph I got from Lucas Duda."

"He's with Kelsi and Martha, setting up our little surprise for everyone," Sharpay says.

Taylor tilts her head. "And shouldn't you be helping?"

"Oh I don't do heavy lifting," Sharpay says, holding up her hands so they can all see her long, pink manicured nails. "But you're welcome to go help them if you'd like. I'm going to help _myself_ to some champagne. Make sure you're all at our old homeroom class by 8:00. Toodles." She pauses before she leaves. "Nice to see you again, Troy."

Once she's gone, Troy asks, "What was that about?"

"I think she was trying to be nice," Chad says with a laugh.

"No, I mean the surprise. What surprise?"

The four of them are no more informed than he is.

"It's Sharpay. Who ever knows what she's up to," Chad says. He looks down at his watch. "But I guess we have 30 minutes until we find out."

While the four of them talk, Troy dismisses himself under the guise of using the bathroom. He intends to step outside for some air, but once outside the gym he takes a left and heads down the hall to the west wing of the school. He keeps walking until he can no longer hear the heavy bass of the music from the gym. It's not until the doors come into view that he realizes his feet have led him straight to the entrance of the school auditorium. He tugs on the handle expecting it to be locked, but it gives way under his hand and opens with a loud click that echoes in the empty hallway. He glances around to see if anyone is watching him. Then he pushes the door the rest of the way open and quietly slides inside.

The once red theater chairs in the auditorium have faded to a dusty maroon and their fabrics are patchy and torn. The stage curtains that hang stagnantly from the ceiling look as if they haven't been touched in ages. Without the usual clutter of drama props filling in the empty spaces, the stage looks hallow and incomplete. Troy takes it all in as he walks down the aisle and climbs up the steps to the stage. He looks out at the rows of seats in front of him. He hasn't set foot in this auditorium, or any auditorium really, in over a year, and standing in this room that looks the same, yet feels so foreign, he remembers why.

He was here the year Ms. Darbus left East High and the drama club fell into disarray without her guiding hand. He was here when the school district dismantled what was left of the club with each new round of budget cuts until they could barely afford a piano, let alone an entire production. He was here when the athletic department declared his father unfit to coach a former state champion basketball team after 20 years of dedication to East High and let him go. He was here as East High School washed clean every trace of himself and his friends and the things he loved until there was nothing left.

He looks around and no longer remembers what it felt like to be here back when he was young and bright and full of promise. He doesn't remember what it felt like back when he was forever changed by a school play and a beautiful girl with a voice as clear as crystal.

College Troy hadn't been so cynical. College Troy had three loves for which he split his passion almost equally: basketball, theater and the woman with whom he planned to spend the rest of his life. Then, sophomore year at UC Berkley, he busted his knee during the second game of the season, realized any chance of playing professional basketball was effectively over, and started casting around for a Plan B. By the time he reached his junior year, Troy had refocused his attention away from basketball and directed it towards education. Becoming a high school counselor had never been on his radar before, but the more he'd thought about it, the more it made sense. He'd always enjoyed helping others learn and grow, and he'd always admired his father's work, even when he didn't agree with what he wanted. Using his talent to guide students who, like him, just needed someone to tell them it was ok to follow their dreams had seemed like the right fit at the time.

At 28 years old, Troy's hopes and dreams haven't faded so much as calcified. It's been one year since he and Gabriella broke up, and almost as long since the last time he stood on a stage. He's self-aware enough to realize the two are probably related. Despite everything he put into pursuing the three things he loved, he hadn't been able to keep any of them in the end.

"Enjoying your trip down memory lane, Mr. Bolton?" Troy jumps and squints into the darkness in the direction of the voice. He can just barely make out the person walking down the aisle towards him, but he doesn't need to see her to recognize her presence. He wasn't expecting to see her tonight, and yet it's fitting, her finding him here at this moment. She always had a knack for appearing when he was most conflicted.

"Ms. Darbus," he says when she stops in front of him. "How long have you been here?"

"Not long. You looked deep in thought. I'm sorry if I interrupted."

Nevertheless Ms. Darbus makes herself comfortable in a seat in the front row and wraps her glittery red and white shawl tighter around her shoulders. Her glasses are perched down on her nose and her hair, more gray than the last time he saw her, is up in its tidy bun. She still dresses with the grace and dignity he remembers from his high school days, though she hasn't lost that flare for eccentricity. From where he's standing it looks like her large earrings are shaped like actual wildcats.

"You're not interrupting," he assures her. He sinks down until he's sitting on the edge of the stage. Ms. Darbus surveys the auditorium with a critical eye.

"It's been a while since I was here. I must admit, it doesn't look quite the same. Something's missing, wouldn't you agree?"

Troy's smile is sad. Everything is missing. Nothing in here has been the same since she left. "You held this place together," he tells his former teacher.

"Oh, I highly doubt that." She dismisses him with an airy wave, though he suspects she knows it's true. "I assume your Wildcats are nearby?"

"In the gym."

"May I ask why you aren't with them?"

Troy gives her a neutral reason. "I guess I just…needed a place to think."

"Well, you know I've always found the theater to be an ideal place for self-reflection." She winks at him and he can't help but grin.

"I think you might've mentioned that before." He bumps his heel against the side of the stage to an unnamed tune. "I didn't know you were coming back."

"Nor did I. But a few, shall we say persistent, former students of mine made it quite clear my presence would be greatly missed and I couldn't bear to disappoint them."

He furrows his brow and guesses, "Sharpay and Ryan?"

"And Ms. McKessie," she says with a nod. "Ms. Nielsen as well. Even Mr. Danforth appeared to have an opinion on the matter."

"Chad?" Troy laughs as he pictures his friend begging Ms. Darbus to come to their high school reunion. It's a turn of events that would have been unimaginable at the start of their junior year of high school.

Ms. Darbus's lip twitches up. "I have managed to keep in contact with just about everyone. Everyone, that is, except you."

He looks down so he doesn't have to see the knowing expression on Ms. Darbus's face. Back when he first started working at East High, on the afternoons when he wasn't trying to help his father revive East High's defunct basketball team, Troy would hang back in the auditorium and watch Ms. Darbus counsel the next generation of thespians to greatness. Sometimes he would help, offer his insight when he could, but mostly he liked to observe. Ms. Darbus's taste for theatrics hadn't diminished during his time at college. He would listen to her shout stage directions from off stage, or go off on tangents about the metaphysical benefits of life in the theater, and for a moment he would feel transported back to the days of his high school performances.

Sometimes he would call Gabriella in Stanford where she was still working on her Ph.D in biochemistry, and put her on speaker phone so she could hear too. They would sit and listen to their former drama teacher together, him in the auditorium and her on the phone 1,053 miles away, and in those moments the distance never seemed quite as far.

Troy finally recognizes the tune he's been tapping unconsciously with his heel. Tonight is the first time in years that particular song has popped into his head. To a young Troy it had represented endless possibilities: a change to the status quo, a chance to try something new, and a new beginning with the girl who had turned an entire school's social order upside down. That night of the callbacks he had held her trembling hand in his and promised her everything would be all right as long as she kept her eyes on him. He'd kept his word for as long as she let him, but apparently it hadn't been enough.

Troy has no good explanation for why he lost touch with so many people in the year that's passed. Ms. Darbus was let go from East High just months after his father was fired, and soon after that, Troy broke up with the only woman he had ever loved. He had tried to run the drama club in Ms. Darbus's absence and failed miserably. He had tried to revive the basketball team to its former glory to no avail. And he hadn't been able to keep the most important person in his life happy enough to stay. It was a chain reaction of loss and disappointment for which he was unprepared, and he responded by retreating in on himself.

He doesn't tell Ms. Darbus this, but she probably knows, or can at least infer, because the look she sends him is shrewd and pointed. "Life doesn't always go as planned, Troy. The best thing we can do for ourselves is find a way to keep moving forward."

"And if we can't?" he asks.

"You've always managed to put one foot in front of the other. I don't see why that should stop now." She stands up, adjusts her shawl and glances at the watch on her wrist. "It's after 8:00. I believe Ms. Evans has something waiting for us in an old room of ours."

* * *

As Troy follows Ms. Darbus down the hall he wonders if he should tell her that the classroom she inhabited while at East High has undergone some serious changes since she left. Namely, it has been stripped bare of all its former finery and character. It now more closely resembles the stone cold bleakness of the other classrooms in the building.

But when they enter the room together his warnings die on his tongue.

It is as if he has stepped into a time machine and returned to the homeroom of his high school days. The elevated stage is back at the front of the room and covered by the same Oriental rug as before. Someone has set up Ms. Darbus's old upholstered, gold-adorned armchair and footrest next to an end table and lamp on the stage. Behind them are the heavy stage curtains and gold-plated drama masks Troy used to stare at every day as she read the morning announcements. The play posters and Shakespeare costumes are back in their rightful place along the walls, and the handkerchief-covered lamps around the room give the space a warm glow he hadn't fully appreciated until it was gone.

Taylor, Chad, Zeke, Jason and Sharpay are already waiting inside with Kelsi, Martha and Ryan when Troy and Ms. Darbus arrive. They are instantly bombarded by tight hugs and hearty handshakes. Their overlapping conversations vie for their attention and seem to pull them in every direction. Troy feels crowded and overwhelmed and there's barely enough space to move, but it's not altogether unpleasant to be surrounded by his old friends again. It helps that it's just them tonight, and that she isn't able to make it. He's not sure he could handle being in this room with the way it looks now, the feelings it's reviving, if she was here too.

"Welcome back, Hoops!" Kelsi says. She takes him by the wrist to pull him further into the classroom.

Martha, dressed head to toe in Wildcat gear, scolds Troy with a playful grin. "Long time no see!"

They all look genuinely excited to see him, which is startling considering his poor efforts at staying in touch as of late. He had expected his return to be met with awkwardness at best, disinterest at worst, but he is welcomed back with enthusiasm and perhaps more leniency than he deserves. He's been distant and disengaged towards most of the people in this room for much longer than anyone can consider reasonable, and their wholehearted understanding only heightens his guilt.

Sharpay breaks away from a conversation with Taylor and Zeke to slide up to Troy. "Pretty fabulous, right?" she says, referring to the room. "It took forever to find all this old furniture."

" _I_ found the furniture," Ryan reminds her. He and Troy share a handshake in greeting, then Ryan leans against a desk near his sister. "Sharpay just signed the checks."

"Yeah, and we did all the decorating," Kelsi says, pointing to herself and Martha.

"It was still my idea." Sharpay insists. She rewards Ms. Darbus with her widest, most brown-nosing smile. "Just a little gift for the best drama teacher in the world. I hope you like it, Ms. Darbus."

For once Ms. Darbus seems at a loss for words, which is a rare event in itself. She examines her old seat methodically, tracing the edge of the gold filigree with her finger, running her hand over the scarf draped over the backrest. When she sits down nine of her former students are watching her, waiting patiently for her verdict. Her voice thick, she tells them, "It's wonderful."

"Is there room for one more?" The familiar, lyrical voice makes the back of Troy's neck heat up. He turns with the rest of the group to face the beautiful woman hoovering uncertainly in the classroom doorway. Her dark hair is shorter than he remembers and her cheeks are a little less full. The bags under her eyes suggest frequent late nights studying in a lab, and she's wringing her hands tightly. She's wearing the red lipstick he's always liked on her and a black and white checkered dress that's both conservative and playful. She looks tired, she looks nervous, but she is every bit as radiant as he remembers.

It's as if someone has sucked all the air out of the room.

"Gabriella!" The force of Taylor's hug nearly knocks Gabriella over. They hold on to each other like they haven't seen each other in years, and almost everyone else moves in to follow suit.

"What're you doing here?" Kelsi asks. She waits for Martha to finish hugging Gabriella before taking her turn. "I thought you couldn't make it."

"I wanted to surprise you guys. I finished up early at the lab. My plane landed an hour ago."

Gabriella's lightly tanned face is flush with excitement. She hugs Chad and Ryan tightly, Zeke and Jason with slightly more formality, and even has a friendly greeting to spare for Ms. Darbus. By the time she finishes saying hello to everyone, Troy's lack of reaction has become painfully obvious to the entire room. He nods his head at her in his best attempt at a greeting, but it's embarrassingly feeble. The joyful mood in the room sours with awkwardness; their friends are gracious enough to pretend not to notice.

Ms. Darbus clears her throat and Troy has never been more grateful for an interruption. "Welcome back, Ms. Montez. Stanford seems to be treating you quite well."

"It is, thank you." Gabriella says. "It's nice to see you again. All of you. The gym looks amazing, Taylor. Very festive."

Taylor beams. "Sadly I can't take all the credit." She nods her head in Sharpay's direction and Gabriella turns around to face her.

"And here I thought you'd forgotten about me." Sharpay, who was hanging back before, now stands and sizes Gabriella up. After a beat she says, "I hope you don't think coming here today means you're getting out of next weekend."

To Troy's great surprise, Gabriella smiles. "It's good to see you too, Sharpay."

"What's next weekend?" Zeke asks.

"Sharpay's hosting a singing seminar," Gabriella says. She takes off her coat and folds it over her arm. Troy finds the action, and every action she's made since she arrived really, completely captivating. "She asked me to come in and help train some of the students."

Jason looks as confused as everyone else. "Wait, _Sharpay_ asked _you_?"

"Trust me, we were all shocked," Ryan says.

They laugh and just like that the tension begins to ease. With the entire Wildcat gang present and accounted for, everyone begins to fracture off into groups to converse. To Troy's right, Sharpay checks her reflection in her phone while Martha and Ryan talk beside her. Kelsi, Taylor and Gabriella engage Ms. Darbus in polite chit-chat at the front of the room and Zeke, Jason and Chad hover around Troy in a move that feels deliberately shielding. But even as Chad tries to talk seasonal basketball stats to distract him, Troy's eyes keep seeking out Gabriella.

She's taking in every inch of the room. Her eyes linger on Ms. Darbus's decorated stage and the absurd silver suit of armor propped up in the back corner of the wall. She looks at the green chalkboards, then the white laminate desks until her wandering gaze rests on Troy. His heart rockets in his chest and he looks away. When he glances back she has returned to her conversation.

Troy's not ashamed to admit he's imagined their reunion a million different ways. He has played in his head countless scenarios of what he would do when he saw her again—whether he'd be angry or calm, hurt or stoic, ask her to come back to him or realize he's better off without her. Sometimes it gives him a sense of closure to think this way; other times it leaves him wishing he had had more time to set things straight. Yet in all his well-laid plans he hadn't prepared himself for how painful it would be to see her again.

Troy still remembers the weekend she flew in from Stanford to see him, the day they split. Her visit had surprised him; Gabriella hated few things, but flying was near the top. The only reason she would endure the hassle, the long security lines and tedious layovers, was if she really needed to see him. He met her at the airport that evening with a kiss and a simple ring hidden in the pocket of his wind breaker. She'd ended up paying for their dinner, no matter how many times he pushed her wallet away, and afterwards they took a walk through a nearby park.

Later, he would remember the smell of the trees and the scent of freshly cut grass mixing with the rain-soaked earth. He would remember the way her hair whipped around her face in the light evening breeze and the feel of her small hand held too tightly in his own. He would remember the way her eyes seemed to linger on everything but him, and realize, even in that moment, that he had known what she was going to say, and ignored it anyway.

Halfway through the park they walked through a rose garden so beautiful, so perfect, he decided it was time to act. Dismissing the small voice that sounded like an alarm in his head, he gently guided her to a patch of red and white flowers in early bloom and got down on one knee.

He only got out the first word of his pre-rehearsed speech, her name, before she started shaking her head for him to stop.

Only much, much later was he able to put together the pieces of their fractured relationship until he finally got a clear image of the events leading up to their break up. Her trip to Albuquerque was the first time they'd seen each other in 6 months. Their last visit ended in a huge fight that had him grabbing his coat and storming out of her Stanford apartment two days before he was supposed to leave. They didn't talk for a week after. Their phone calls had become sporadic and short, their conversations clipped to the point of terse. In the months before their break up they would spend at most 5 minutes on the phone talking about their day and then find an excuse to hang-up early, hurrying through their goodbyes and half-hearted I-love-yous just to get away. The long distance had been wearing on them for a while no matter how much he tried to deny it, and as usual she was the first one to see the writing on the wall.

Chad rests his hand on Troy's shoulder and gives him a knowing, apologetic look that Troy returns with a half-hearted shrug. The number of people in the room makes it easier to keep his distance.

The longer he doesn't talk to her, the more he thinks he's better off not saying anything at all.

* * *

As it gets later and the night appears to be winding down, they all unconsciously begin to drift back to their old seats. They sit on the tops of their desks, something Ms. Darbus never allowed when they were students, and they talk as if it's only been days since the last time all of them were students in this classroom together.

"How long are you in town for, Ms. Darbus?" Sharpay asks. She kicks off her heels and stretches her legs so they rest on the desk in front of her. "We'd love to have you visit our school."

"After all, you taught us everything we know," Ryan says. They're buttering her up as they did when they were her students, but now that they're all older, now that there's nothing in it for them, it grates on Troy less.

Ms. Darbus preens under their praises. "I'm in town for the rest of the week. We'll have to set something up before I leave."

Taylor pips up from the back of the class. "How do you like Florida, Ms. Darbus?"

"Much too humid for my taste, as it turns out."

"Would you ever think of coming back?" Gabriella's soft voice brings goosebumps to Troy's arms.

"I'm afraid there wouldn't be much of a role for me here if I did," Ms. Darbus admits. "But I'm rather content teaching fine arts to students in Jacksonville."

"Hey, Ms. D, be honest. Were we you're favorite class?"

Chad's question elicits an enthusiastic response from everyone else, and Ms. Darbus has to raise her voice to be heard.

"I am fond of every class that passed through East High," she says diplomatically.

Jason shakes his head. "But we were the best, right?"

"Yeah, you can tell us," Zeke says.

Troy can't resist joining the pestering. They beg and plead for her to answer, growing louder and more determined every time she rebuffs them good-naturedly. Eventually she stands up with a dramatic flick of her shawl and gives them all a sharp look that's undermined by the smile she's fighting.

"I can see you all are determined to be incorrigible, and it's getting late. I guess I'll have to leave you wondering until the 20 year reunion." Troy swears he sees tears gathering in his unflappable former teacher's eyes. "It really has been wonderful to see all of you again. I'm so proud of what you've all accomplished. Please continue to keep me up to date with your lives. All of you." At this she looks at Troy and he nods in understanding.

"Ms. Darbus," he says to stop her before she leaves. He tries to convey the fullness of his gratitude in two words. "Thank you."

One by one the others echo his sentiment. With one last glance back at the room, Ms. Darbus leaves them to their own entertainment. As soon as she's gone Sharpay jumps up and closes the door to the classroom. From under her desk she produces a large, stuffed tote bag that looks ready to burst.

Her smirk is wicked. "And now the fun begins."

She pulls out bottles of champagne and glasses that are far too nice to be from the reunion bar. Ryan helps her pour and distribute until everyone has a drink in hand. Taylor protests for decorum's sake for half a second, but once she's had a taste all her concerns seem to evaporate. The combination of the alcohol and the giddiness from breaking the rules has an instantaneous effect. They relax and drink and swap seats like musical chairs until they're arranged in some approximation of a circle. Soon it's like nothing has changed, with a few notable exceptions.

"I still don't understand how this happened. When did you guys become friends?" Troy says of the strange friendship that has formed between Sharpay and the rest of the women in the room.

"I wouldn't say friends," Taylor interjects quickly. "Sharpay and I were on the reunion planning committee together. We figured it'd be easier for everyone if we learned how to get along."

"And I teach a dance class at their school," Martha says.

"Plus Gabriella and Kelsi helped plan a few lessons," Ryan chimes in from his seat beside Sharpay. He takes off his sparkly flat clap and spins it around his finger.

Sharpay tosses a lock of hair over her shoulder. "They weren't that helpful. Ryan and I could've figured it all out on our own."

"I still can't believe you're engaged!" Kelsi says. She leans over Gabriella so she can marvel at the size of the diamond on Sharpay's finger.

"Who's the unlucky guy anyway?" Jason asks. Chad reaches around Taylor to give him a high five.

Sharpay glares at their impertinence. "A fabulously wealthy entrepreneur who wants to shower me in the finest clothes and jewelry money can buy."

"He's an accountant from Tucson," Martha informs them. Aside from Ryan she is the only other person in the room who has actually met the man, and she takes pleasure in describing Sharpay's nerdy fiancé in great, exaggerated detail to the others.

Jason nudges Zeke. "Dude, remember when you had the biggest crush on Sharpay."

Zeke looks wildly embarrassed, more so when Sharpay winks at him and blows him a kiss.

"Yeah, what were you thinking, man?" Chad asks. Sharpay throws Ryan's hat at Chad's face with unexpected accuracy, looking pleased with herself when Chad nearly stumbles off the desk.

"Hey," Zeke says, coming to his and Sharpay's defense. "I always knew deep down that Sharpay was a kind, sweet person."

There's a pause as everyone considers this. Then all of them, including Sharpay, are laughing so hard they can hardly catch their breaths. Troy's having so much fun he can no longer remember why he almost didn't come. Martha opens up two more bottles of champagne and passes them around to top off their glasses. Zeke and Jason fill their glasses to the very top and Chad just keeps one of the bottles between himself and Taylor. Troy regretfully declines the next round once it becomes apparent that he will be the one driving his friends home tonight.

"I can't believe it's been 10 years." Gabriella's wistful observation seems to sober them up a little. She's sitting cross-legged on her desk and playing with a loose thread at the hem of her long dress. Troy's been instinctively following her movement for the better part of ten minutes now, an old habit from back when he was always attune to everything she did.

"It feels so long," Jason groans. He pulls two more desks towards him and lines them up in a row so he can lie across them.

"Really?" Taylor asks. "It feels short to me."

Sharpay rolls her eyes. "That's because you never stop working. I swear you're pretty much running that law firm all by yourself."

"You're the one who started an actual school," Taylor points out. She rests her head heavily on Chad's shoulder. "Plus Ryan has his Broadway career. Did he tell you guys he got the lead role in _Cats the Musical_?"

Their congratulations blend together into one loud sound of celebration. Zeke thumps Ryan on the back so hard he spills some of his champagne on the floor. Gabriella reaches over so she can squeeze Ryan's hand briefly and Troy envies him the gesture of affection. "I couldn't have done it without Martha's dance tips," Ryan insists.

"What about you, Kels," Martha says looking up from the game of tic-tac-toe she is playing on a piece of paper with Sharpay. "You sold your tenth play this year."

Kelsi deftly deflects the attention away from herself. "But have you been to Zeke's bakery? His macarons are to die for. And Jason gets to travel all over the country."

"Chad's living the real dream. I mean, how many times did we talk about coaching for the Albuquerque of University?" Jason mutters drunkenly from his make-shift bed. His eyes are starting to droop, his head lolling against his folded arms.

"Assistant coach," Chad reminds them. He wraps his arm tighter around Taylor's waist and rests his head against the top of hers. "And Troy stayed at East High to make sure the world gets the next generation of Chad Danforths and Troy Boltons. Molding young minds and all that stuff."

"God help us all," Sharpay says.

"And one day Gabriella's gonna cure cancer." They all look surprised to see Troy addressing Gabriella directly, Gabriella most of all. She blushes beautifully and twirls her empty glass in her hands. The ten of them grow silent, though it is more contemplative than uncomfortable now. This time when Gabriella looks up at him, Troy meets her gaze and holds it.

Chad stands up to grab the last two unopened bottles of champagne. He goes around refiling everyone's glasses one last time and climbs up onto the stage where everyone can see him. The room is so quiet it feels like Troy is floating underwater. He looks at his former classmates, his once rivals and strangers turned friends, his friends turned family, and holds up his glass along with them. Chad holds his out to them. "To the Class of 2008. The best class."

"Hear, hear," they respond in sync.

"To all our successes and many more to come," Taylor says.

"To fame and fortune," is Sharpay's cheeky response.

"To the theater."

Martha nods at Ryan in agreement. "And music."

"To being together again."

"I'll drink to that," Jason says. He clinks his glass against Kelsi's.

Zeke raises his empty glass over his head. "To following your dreams."

"To friendship," Gabriella says.

There's so many things Troy wants to say, so many words that fight for dominance in his brain. He wants to toast to all the dreams that came true and all the ones they left behind, to love that burned bright and faded as dark, to friendships that lasted and faded and formed. He wants to toast to a better future, a brighter future, a happier future, maybe a future of reconciliations. Because even if some of them have lost touch, even if they aren't as close as they used to be, he has few regrets when it comes to the people in this room. He wouldn't be the man he is today without them.

Troy looks right at Gabriella when he says, "To all of us."

The East High Wildcats tip their glasses back and drink.

 _A/N: I know, I know. I had this entire scene written where Troy and Gabriella talk and figure things out, but it just didn't feel like the right time and this thing was getting too long as it is. I also really wanted to make sure every character got a few minutes in the spotlight, or at least a mention. Eh, well. Next time._


End file.
